


Footprints in Snow

by scorpiobabylon



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail is Will's biological daughter, Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha Purr, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Babies, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Biting, Blood, Bodily Fluids, Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Courtship, Crime Scenes, Dark Will Graham, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Happy Murder Family, Harm to Animals, Impregnation, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Moving In Together, Mpreg, Murder, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Omega Will Graham, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Romance, Smut, True Love, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiobabylon/pseuds/scorpiobabylon
Summary: Hannibal is held at gunpoint by a pregnant omega in the woods. They fall in love, of course, on the omega's terms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Footprints in Snow雪中足迹](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117732) by [HolyColorfulPig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyColorfulPig/pseuds/HolyColorfulPig)



> This is my very first omegaverse fic! It hits all the notes I like from the genre (domesticity, family, mate-bonding) and none of the notes I don't (jealousy, forced impregnation, omega subservience). This fic includes my personal interpretation of what each of the secondary sexes imply, as the rules are constantly renegotiated by each new ABO author. I want to note that Will is pregnant at the start of this fic, and while his backstory is alluded to, I deliberately don't go into detail about the identity of the father. I also want to mention that Abigail is Will's biological child in this fic, because the murder family is incomplete without her. This fic contains descriptions of a canon-typical crime scene, harm to animals, and, well, explicit cannibalism. The heat-sex you bought your ticket for is comin' in chapter four. Bon apetit!

Hannibal was bagging up up the last of the corpse he’d spent the last half hour dismembering and neatly removing the desirable organs from, delicately tucking them away into his portable cooler, when he heard the click of a gun being loaded from a few feet away. The plastic outer-casing of his suit squeaked as he brought his arms up in surrender. It had been a ridiculous squeeze, getting the cleanliness precaution over his winter coat, and the thing made the most obvious noises whenever he moved. Of course he’d been heard. It was always a thrill, hunting in the open like this, even in the deep woods surrounding Wolf Trap. Even as the weather kept most explorers clear of the area, the snow provided deep footprints for anyone curious enough to follow them. Hannibal angled his head to try and get a look at whoever was threatening him, to get a read on how he’d be escaping. He got a commanding bark in response, his aggressor clearly not keen on being looked at.

“As you were.” A male voice ordered. “Finish what you’re doing.”

Hannibal blinked, processing only a moment before readily returning to his task. He rolled up the tarp he’d used on the snowy forest floor, and placed it inside his cooler. He went about removing his suit, then, no use wearing it on his journey back home. He stood to do so, and heard quiet growling in warning not to dare turn around. He respected assailant’s wishes, getting out of the clear plastic as efficiently as possible and folding it up on top of the rest of his bounty. Hannibal shut the cooler, then, sealing up the latches on the outside. He moved to lift it, and earned an aggressive snarl.

“Leave it.” The voice commanded, and that just wouldn’t do. Hannibal had played by this stranger’s rules long enough, and chose to turn and look at him.

An unafraid, tightly bundled omega was pointing a shotgun at him. Wild, dark curls framed his face, plastered by a too-big winter hat. He was clean shaven, but everything else about him read to Hannibal as scrappy. His gaze was steady and fierce. He saw Hannibal clearly, and took no issue with him other than his disobedience. “Leave it.” He repeated.

Laying in the snow beside the omega were a bundle of big fish, a tackle box, and pole. So, he’d been out fishing. Fishing very well, from the looks of it. Hannibal knew he’d let his victim run too close to the water before ending him, and this would be his consequence. He glanced back to the man with the gun, gently releasing the cooler.

“Are you able to carry all this? You must have spent the better part of your day fishing, it would be a shame to leave them here.” Hannibal spoke carefully, deliberately opening with something condescending to see if he could ruffle the omega enough to trick him. The cooler would be tremendously heavy, even for an alpha used to carrying such things.

“A shame.” He replied, deadpan, feeling no need to become defensive when he had a physical gun in his hands, pointed directly at Hannibal. Clever boy. Good. Perhaps not good enough to best him, but bright thus far.

“What’s your plan, then?” Hannibal continued calmly. He drank in the details of the form before him. The omega’s coat was big, much too big, and it looked to be letting cold air in at where it gaped around his wrists. Perhaps it was all he had available to him, or-- he was hiding something underneath.

“You’re pregnant.” Hannibal observed, a sparkle in his eyes giving away his delight at the fact. “Protecting your baby. Would it be wise, to carry such a heavy thing-- fish or no fish-- and lower your gun for even a moment?” The amusement on his face blossomed, even as the omega remained hard as nails before him. “You haven’t thought this through, have you? In your righteousness, you’ve endangered yourself and your pup.”

“Righteousness?” The omega repeated, and laughed dryly, seemingly unphased by Hannibal’s read of the situation. “I’m not lugging that thing to the police. I’m hungry.”

Hannibal’s expression of gloating faded, and was replaced with an even more dazzling curiosity. “You plan to cook these?”

“Was gonna eat as-is.”

“Unless you’re accustomed to eating raw meats, I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll end up vomiting. As much as you’re craving it now, you’ll inevitably slow down and ruin a perfectly good meal.” Hannibal wet his lips, regarding the omega with warmth now. “I’m not only happy to carry the cooler for you, so you won’t have to lose your fish, but I’ll cook for you. Are you nearby?”

The omega considered the offer, face not softening for a moment. His nostrils flared. “Your knife’s in the box?”

“Yes.”

“Pass it to me.”

Hannibal readily accepted these terms, fetching his disemboweling knife from the case and tossing it gently across the snow. It landed at the omega’s feet, and he very carefully bent to pick it up and pocket it. He kept the gun on Hannibal the whole time, but it was clear that bending was a struggle, a pucker in his massive coat finally revealing the shape of his bump.

“How far along are you?” Hannibal asked, friendly as he was allowed to pick up his cooler.

The omega didn’t respond, focusing all his attention on keeping the gun pointed and gathering up his fishing supplies. He grunted a little as he swung the fish over his shoulder, pole under his armpit, tackle box swinging from his forearm as he maintained both hands on the gun. He could have opted to use one hand, but wouldn’t risk it. He slowly began moving, paying no mind to the cold as he took his time walking at an angle.

Hannibal could have swung the cooler directly at the gun and let it fire above his head, using the momentary diversion to tackle the omega to the ground. He’d struggle, gnash his teeth, slash at Hannibal with the knife he’d so generously provided him. Hannibal certainly wouldn’t walk away unscarred, but this omega would be dead if he wanted it so. The vision of his glazed eyes, blood splattered across his unmoving face in the snow, didn’t elicit brightness inside of Hannibal-- didn’t warm his insides in the same way as imagining sharing a meal with him did. The omega thought, perhaps, that he had the upper hand for the simple reason that he was the one wielding the gun. He had the upper hand, in fact, for the simple reason that Hannibal was lonely.

Maybe the omega knew this. It would be foolish to allow Hannibal inside his home if he didn’t. Hannibal wanted to dine with someone intelligent and ferocious, and he had the distinct sense that this omega was both. He wondered if those qualities were what made him lonesome, too.

It was a short walk from the woods to the omega’s cottage, made longer by how slowly he made the both of them go. The sun was setting now. There was barking from inside the house as they approached it, and Hannibal’s new companion only moved the gun to one hand for a moment to unlock the front door. Dogs of all shapes and sizes flooded out into the snow, every one of them needing desperately to sniff the guest.

“Not used to alpha smell.” The omega muttered in explanation, making no invested effort to settle his pack save for a sharp whistle which made most of them disperse. A few were still wary of Hannibal, forgoing their pee break to follow him into the house and nose at his legs.

These were tighter quarters. The practicality of the shotgun was dwindling, and the omega looked miffed about it but went ahead and yanked his mitten off with his teeth, pulled his cell-phone out, and snapped a photo of Hannibal as the man stood in his entryway. There was an electronic sliding sound as he sent it to someone.

It was an obvious move; easy but effective when Hannibal had no choice but to stand still. “Don’t murder me in my house.” He said sternly, clearly finding the banality of accountability tasteless. He shelved the shotgun on a high rack and began setting his things down.

Hannibal was free, now. If not to kill this omega where he stood, at least to turn and walk out the door. What good was a picture if he chose to leave? He held the screen door open a moment, and the omega blinked at him as if he was surprised the man might actually go. He didn’t; just allowed the dogs, now bored of him, to join their friends outside.

Hannibal began taking his coat off, and the omega settled.

“What are you going to cook for us?” He asked as he yanked his boots off, looking glad for his routine now that he was inside. The omega’s face had actually softened, some, no longer on high-alert.

“I’ll have to get creative with what’s available to me.”

His host nodded at that, and frowned as his phone chimed. He glanced at it, still sitting in the foyer in his coat while Hannibal moved past him to inspect the kitchen. He took the fish with him to place in the freezer.

“Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” The omega stated his guest’s name as Hannibal had just begun looking through his cupboards for spices. Hannibal turned to stare. The omega smirked for the first time since their meeting. “I sent your photo to Alana Bloom. I didn’t expect her to recognize an old friend.”

Hannibal pursed his lips as he turned back to the kitchen cabinets, taking down a few jars to make available on the countertop. The omega had the upper hand, well and truly. Alone, in a cottage by the woods, but well-connected not without a generous helping of luck.

He knew it, too. From the corner of his eye, Hannibal could see the little omega relaxing on his bed and watching him. He had to rest, after being outside for so long. An idle hand rested on the heavy underside of his belly, the red cable-knit sweater he wore doing nothing to hide the shape of him. He stood after a while and stretched, moving like he might let the dogs back in, when he caught glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror he’d put in the the open bedroom. Hannibal drew his full attention to the omega as he regarded his reflection fondly. “Thirty-two weeks.” He stated simply, glancing to Hannibal as he answered his question from earlier.

Hannibal nodded. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” The omega replied, and there was pride in his voice. He walked to the door to call his pack inside, flinching as the cold air hit him. They hurried in, most curling up in their respective beds, the same ones who’d inspected Hannibal before going over to do it again.

The omega stoked a fire in the bedroom, and they worked in their respective corners of the cottage in comfortable silence. The kitchen was well-stocked; it wasn’t as if the omega was without food, he’d simply craved what Hannibal had to offer. By the time he joined him in the kitchen to feed the dogs, human meat was sizzling on the stove. Hannibal had chosen to sauté cuts of thigh in olive oil with rosemary and garlic, and the omega smiled as he smelled it. He had a funny smile, upturned at the corners of his crooked mouth. A strange creature, revealing himself to be prettier the more he let his guard down.

Hannibal thought the harsh animal in the woods had been beautiful, too, and he liked this version all the more for having seen him first.

The omega went about preparing dinner for the dogs, mincing meat from the fridge for them in seven separate bowls while Hannibal tended to dinner for the two of them.

“You’re here alone.” Hannibal observed as the omega set out the bowls one at a time.

“No.” He corrected, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching his pack eat. “I’ve got them, and I’ve got her.” He scratched at his belly through his sweater, turning to look at the man making him dinner. Hannibal wouldn’t argue with him, but the omega knew what he meant. He sighed as he conceded, “No, no alpha. Didn’t want a mate.”

“You wanted a child.”

“Yes, I wanted a child.” He looked to his dogs again.

“What would Alana Bloom tell me, I wonder, if I sent her a photograph of you?”

“That my name’s Will Graham. Doctor Bloom doesn’t gossip.” Will crossed his arms over his chest, looking a bit silly with the way his middle protruded in the posture. “You’d be better off searching the web.”

“What would I find there?”

“Justifiable homicide. Virginia self-defense ruling.”

Hannibal tilted his head. “You didn’t want a mate.”

Will raised his eyebrows in Hannibal’s direction, then moved to pick up all the empty bowls and wash them out in the sink. “Didn’t want _him._ ” He admitted, eventually.

“Did you eat him?”

“No.” Will replied flatly, the way he paused rinsing the dishes suggesting he was a little disappointed in that answer. “It was self defense.” He said with all conviction sucked dry, giving Hannibal a hard look.

Hannibal returned Will’s gaze, waiting for him to elaborate.

“He… Wasn’t what I hoped he was.”

“I know the feeling.” Hannibal agreed, compassionate for the omega’s circumstance.

Will watched the meat sizzle on his stovetop. Hannibal got a good look at him in profile, noting that there were no indications this omega had ever been bonded. No marks, no damper on his scent. He smelled like an unmated omega, ripe and pregnant. Hannibal was surprised he hadn’t noticed the scent as a preamble to the click of the gun in the woods. He leaned in subtly, sniffing.

The scent mixed with the cooking meat, but it was unmistakable. Ocean. Pine, just a droplet of engine oil. Dog. Copper. Burning wood. Tall grass. Snow. Sweet, hot omega pheromones. The smell of pregnancy was distinctly delicious, and Hannibal understood why an unmated omega might use a pack of dogs to mask his scent. He could be mistaken for vulnerable, after all.

When he glanced to Will’s face again, his brow was furrowed. “Did you just smell me?” He asked, incredulous.

“Hard to resist.” Hannibal kept it friendly, checking on the vegetables he was steaming.

Will moved into the dining area to set the table for the two of them, reminding Hannibal, “I was prepared to eat that raw in the cold. I’m starving, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal didn’t keep him waiting. Dinner was finished soon, and served on two steaming plates. Will chowed down as soon as his was placed in front of him, stabbing a generous helping of meat and vegetables onto his fork and eating eagerly. “Hmnf”, and a satisfied nod of the head was his review of the food. He kept wolfing it down, not kidding around about how hungry he was.

Hannibal ate his own food patiently, amused by the way this omega was scarfing the meal he’d prepared. Will eventually slowed down, seeming to at least partially sate whatever was gnawing at him. He ate with a shred more politeness, then, even a little sheepish as his eyes flickered to meet Hannibal’s for a brief moment.

“Is Doctor Bloom your psychiatrist?” Hannibal asked, once Will seemed to be eating at a pace which suited conversation.

“Yes. Court-ordered.”

“Does she believe you?”

“She’s concerned about me.” Will looked frustrated by that, stabbing the meat left on his plate with a twinge of aggression. “As a friend.”

“Do you consider her a friend?”

Will sucked his teeth, mulling that over. “Can anyone be your friend, who doesn’t truly see you?”

Hannibal smiled. “If that were true, I have no friends but you.”

“And I, you.”

They continued to eat in warm silence, Will only making an admonishing clicking noise when one of the dogs tried to put his paws up on the table. When they finished, Hannibal cleared the dishes and Will made his way to his bed, where he sat at the foot to watch the fire. When Hannibal was done in the kitchen, he joined Will, who passed him his phone.

There was the photo he’d snapped of him earlier; not totally unflattering, but backlit by sunset. He’d sent it without an attached message, and Alana had replied,

_What are you doing with Hannibal Lecter? Are you shopping for a new psychiatrist?_

Will hadn’t responded.

_Careful, Will._

“Either you’re not as discreet as you think you are, or you’re married.” Will theorized, taking his phone back and pocketing it.

“Or, Alana doesn’t trust you.” Hannibal suggested, and Will frowned in agreement with that assessment. “I’m not under any suspicion, and I’m unmarried. Never been bonded, same as you.” Hannibal reached over to tuck one of Will’s stray curls behind his ear and take a look at his bare throat, testing the waters with regards to touch. Will didn’t flinch, tilting his head slightly as he allowed it.

“We’re not exactly the same.” Will observed quietly, watching the flickering fire.

“No, not exactly.” Hannibal gently brushed his knuckles against the swell of Will’s stomach, then flattened his hand and fanned his fingers. He felt along the curve, rubbing tenderly, making Will sigh with contentment.

Will watched Hannibal from under half-lidded eyes. “No one’s touched me like this before.” He licked his lips. “Besides… Doctors.”

Hannibal chose not to remind the omega that he was a doctor, just humming thoughtfully, continuing to stroke his rounded belly.

“Here,” Will murmured, putting his hands over Hannibal’s to guide him a little lower, just under his navel. “Here.” He assured him.

Hannibal tilted his head curiously, then smiled as he felt a fluttering of movement beneath his fingers. “Hello.” He greeted the baby, and Will was laughing.

“There she is.” Will’s tone was calm and affectionate, reminders of the baby seeming to mellow him out. He relaxed, leaning against Hannibal while his stomach was pet. There was enough trust between them in that moment that Will could have fallen asleep, but instead he shifted to kiss the sharp angle of Hannibal’s jaw. He pressed kisses all along the bone, moving in towards his chin and then angling up to capture his lips.

They kissed slow, Hannibal finding Will warm and receptive to his attention, communicating with soft noises. Tongue was a happy hum, a nibble at his lower lip was a sigh. He passed his fingers through Hannibal’s sandy greying hair, still welcoming the fullness of his belly to be felt and appreciated. Lifting at the bottom edges of his sweater caused Will to huff in a disgruntled way, needing to drop his hands to still Hannibal’s. Hannibal let go immediately, going back to rubbing through the fabric and refocusing his efforts on their kisses.

When they parted, Will was flushed in the most appealing way. Hannibal guessed him to be in his early thirties, but he looked much younger in this light, positively darling with his rosy cheeks and long lashes. That precious mouth was plump from the treatment of Hannibal’s teeth, and he touched along his lower lip with his thumb. Will darted his tongue out to give him a curious little lick.

“Shall I return tomorrow?” Hannibal asked.

Will nodded, eyes down. “Please.”

Hannibal left his thumb at Will’s mouth, and gently tucked his forefinger beneath his chin to tilt his face up. Will conceded, meeting his eyes.

“Will...”

“Hannibal.” Will began smiling, the cause mysterious, and Hannibal couldn’t help smiling back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a description of harm to animals, and features a canon-typical crime scene.

Hannibal returned to Wolf Trap five times over the next two weeks. Always in the evening, just before sunset, he’d arrive with the proper ingredients for that night’s meal, and watch Will devour his plate with a reckless abandon he’d never before observed in dinner guests. The kind of cooking Hannibal did was usually met with a composed audience-- enthusiastic, of course, it was delicious, but they all seemed to know how much a truffle cost. Will Graham could not care less. The omega was heavily pregnant and ravenously hungry and not about to control himself for Hannibal’s benefit, not in his own home. Strangely enough, Hannibal never felt slighted by his behavior. It wasn’t as if his skills in the kitchen were lost on Will or unappreciated; quite the opposite, Will’s passion for the food in front of him inspired a great deal of pride in Hannibal. Either Will was showing him a form of gratitude with which he wasn’t previously familiar, or he was being terribly rude and Hannibal couldn’t see it through his aching affections. Or, a third possibility, and the closest to the truth-- Hannibal liked him rude.

On his sixth visit to the cottage, it was midday. The dogs knew him by now, just waiting patiently inside. Will opened up the front door and they came trotting out, happily scenting Hannibal on their way to the yard to play. Will joined him on the porch in the chilly air, crossing his arms and grinning fondly. “You’re early.”

“Yes. I have something to show you.”

Once Will was properly bundled up, they began their trek into the woods. It was rare that they saw each other in daylight, and Hannibal appreciated the way Will seemed to glow against the backdrop of snow. How hadn’t he noticed, the moment they met, that Will glowed?

Will’s pink nose twitched, and his brow furrowed. He smelled something unusual, but kept walking.

“Through here. I trust you would have found it eventually, but I wanted to be here when you saw it.” Hannibal admitted as he guided them through a dense thicket of trees and into a clearing.

The wood closed in on all sides around a perfect circle, in the center of which was a grand tree stump. Mounted atop it was a frozen corpse, tree limbs fanning out from his arms and head as if he were the ghost of the great tree itself. Hanging from each branch were strings of ornaments beaded all the way down to the forest floor, lovingly hung turtle shells and pelts and bones. Wind whistled through the clearing, causing the branches to sway and rattle the adornments like chimes. A raccoon paw clicked against the skull of a deer, auger shells chattered between duck bills.

“The man we dined on the night we met attracted my attention on the road that runs just outside your house. A cat was crossing, nearly clear of the street, and he veered to kill it. It trapped his car in the snowbank. It made sense for me, then, to pull over and offer assistance. When I left my vehicle to approach him, he was scraping the cat’s entrails from his tire and depositing them into a bucket. I was… Curious, why he ran immediately.”

Will approached the sculpture, taking careful paces, his breath visible in the cold.

“After our meal together,” Hannibal went on, “I returned to his car. It wasn’t the first animal he’d killed; his trunk was filled with carcasses. The smell was unforgettable.”

Will reached out to a tortoise shell, but didn’t touch it, hand hovering just above where it swayed in the breeze.

“His brother called, demanding to know why he’d never turned up at his place. I disposed of the phone, and the vehicle. You helped me with the rest. It was a privilege, sharing him with you, but when the brother turned up looking for him… I couldn’t resist displaying him. They were collectors, the both of them. These are all from his truck, and his residence in Fairfax.”

Will shut his eyes.

_The pendulum swung, taking away the animal parts. Then, the body. Hannibal no longer stood behind him. Just the tree stump remained._

_He looked beside him, to see a bloodied corpse in the snow, not yet frostbitten. He lifted him with ease, draping him onto the wooden prop he’d assembled for this purpose. “This is not what you are.” Will braided dried flowers through the man’s beard. “You take, and you hoard, but you have no interest in art.” He sawed off and assembled the tree branches, a great feat of strength matched only by the delicacy with which he strung the ornaments. “I have elevated you, through my passion and my patience. You provided the raw materials which I spun into gold.” Will looked into the eye sockets of a bear skull, pausing his work for a moment. “I am not doing this for you.” He hung the skull directly beside the man’s head, tying it off with finesse. “I do not make you beautiful to impress you; this is for someone else. There is someone special, who needs to see you.”_

_Will stood back to take a look at his work; magnificent. It took his breath away, and his heartbeat quickened at the possibility of an interested audience. “I’m courting someone. They see me, and I want them to see all of me.”_

Will opened his eyes.

Hannibal was watching him expectantly. He went to him, and pressed his nose to his throat, opening his mouth around where he might bite, were they to bond as mates. Hannibal sighed and held Will close. They stood, warming each other in the cold, Will ghosting his breath over the place where he could smell Hannibal the most clearly.

“He’s beautiful.” Will murmured.

“Yes.” Hannibal agreed.

When they left the woods together, hands held between them, fresh falling snow covered their footprints.

That night, even when Will felt so close to him, he wouldn’t allow Hannibal to undress him or make any move towards sex. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire him; Will let Hannibal know that he was desired, and he certainly wasn’t attempting to shield his changing body from Hannibal’s gaze. Touches to his belly were so warmly welcome, and being looked at and complimented for it made him happy. It wasn’t that. That night, when there was a lull in their kisses, Hannibal ventured to ask what was wrong.

“I don’t want to hurt her.” Will answered, gaze down.

“I’ll be gentle.” Hannibal assured him, moving to kiss at his throat, which Will received with a soft moan.

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Hannibal.” He admitted. “You excite me. I get… Reckless, when I’m excited.”

Hannibal recalled the way Will ate his food, and understood. He kissed his mouth, sweet and strong. He could hardly wait to see what Will was, but would never complain about the waiting when he had an omega like this in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Abigail was born six weeks later, as spring melted the snow that had blanketed Will’s roof. Standing on the porch with her in the early morning, coming home from the hospital, a droplet of water landed squarely on the baby’s forehead and set off a cry that didn’t stop until late that night.

Hannibal stayed patient and constant by Will’s side, going the extra mile with such effortless consistency that Will felt quietly dazzled by him. Maybe he was just exhausted, deprived of sleep for so long, but Hannibal had to be the most perfect mate he could have dreamed up. Will wasn’t one to give credit where it wasn’t due; the alpha wasn’t just helpful, he excelled as a provider and partner. The love in him was palpable, expressing himself through great kindness wherever Will and the baby were concerned. Though it was rare that Abigal’s fat little cheek was ever not cozied up to Will’s bare chest, the moments where Will could watch Hannibal hold her were remarkable. He looked like a father, cradling her and cooing, looking into her bright blue eyes.

“I don’t want to displace you.” Hannibal told him in the middle of the night, two weeks into their cohabitation in Wolf Trap. He spoke quietly, as not to wake the baby with her little hands and face burrowed against Will’s neck. “But I feel I could better care for you at my home in Baltimore. I wouldn’t have to leave as frequently, and there would be more room for the three of us. We could set up a proper nursery.”

Will muttered, “okay”, and drifted off to sleep.

The transition to the house in Baltimore was less idyllic than those first weeks home from the hospital in Wolf Trap, but still punctuated by such profound moments of joy and connection that Will couldn’t criticize the move. He was too tired to, anyhow, and too busy with his new pup. Abigail slept better in those weeks, which was a blessing, but also a curse as she tended to fall asleep while held against Will, effectively trapping him wherever he happened to be when she started dozing. Hannibal came home from work to find Will sitting pathetically in his dining room, empty plates cold on the table from lunch, dried vomit still on his shoulder from hours ago and Abigail slumbering away in his lap. Moving the baby meant the baby woke up, and if the baby didn’t get enough sleep, the baby was crabby. So, Hannibal cleared the plate and dabbed at the mess on Will’s shirt with a damp washcloth. Will regarded his alpha with exhausted gratitude, leaning up for a kiss.

It was at the end of the second month in their new home that Will noticed Hannibal purring. They shared his bed, and if Will wanted to list any grievances (which he didn’t), one might be about Hannibal’s insistence on luxury fabrics on a bed where a newborn was sleeping. He couldn’t deny that it was cozy, nicer than anything he’d slept on before, making the twenty minutes he got of rest between Abigail waking up and wailing very sweet. One night, Abigail was snug between them, which was often a good strategy for keeping her asleep, and Will stirred awake. It was muscle memory to pick Abigail up and begin rocking her, but his arm stilled before he could scoop her up. She was still dreaming. He’d been woken by a sound from Hannibal, who was also out cold. It was a low, constant rumble, funny for its scratchy quality and the way Hannibal was totally oblivious to it.

He’d read about alpha purrs. They were rare, a kind of novel thing usually reserved for bonded pairs, most famously between alpha mates. It was the type of thing to show up on a tacky magazine, demanding of readers, _Can YOUR Alpha PURR? Secrets Inside!_

Will had the secret, apparently, and his alpha was purring in his sleep.

It was a week later that Abigail fell asleep in her new cradle for the first time. She’d never been able to sleep without Will, but looked totally blissed out with her stuffed blue doggie in her arms, one ear in her wet mouth. It was cause to celebrate. The nursery being finished was exciting, but Abigail actually sleeping in it was the real indicator of progress. Well-- Will thought the nursery was finished. After all, they had the crib with the snowflake mobile above it, and the rocking chair, and the carpeted floor. Hannibal still insisted there was more to be done; bookshelves to be assembled, drawers for her tiny clothes, something about painting a mural. This was the soft opening of what was sure to be a knockout nursery, and Will was having a hard time pulling himself away from his sleeping baby. Hannibal rested a warm hand at his back and watched with him. Abigail began purring, a soft croaking sound, almost imperceptible.

Will cracked a smile, leaning to Hannibal to whisper, “you do that too.”

Hannibal blinked at him, somewhat surprised. “I purr?”

“Mhm.” Will nodded, looking to their daughter again and resisting the urge to pick her up and take her back into the bedroom with them. This was good, if just for tonight. “She’s just like her father.” He said, not thinking of the implications as he said it, then glancing to Hannibal, who looked unsure. It was uncommon to see Hannibal feel out of place; he’d integrated himself so seamlessly into Will’s life, it was a strange sensation to be reminded of his lack of biological ties.

“You.” Will clarified, “she’s just like you.” He wrapped his arms around Hannibal, feeling suddenly sad for having made him doubt for even a moment his place in their family. “I love you.” Will murmured, needing to remind him, eyes stinging. “I love you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal held Will close, shutting his eyes and allowing himself to be comforted. He hadn’t truly thought Will was suggesting anyone else when he spoke of Abigail’s father; Will had made a choice, long before they’d met, that the man would never meet her. Whether Hannibal could comfortably think of himself as Abigail’s father, though, was another matter. That had been the cause of the flicker of uncertainty; he’d proved himself, doubtlessly, but the choice was still Will’s if he could be a part of his family. He was overwhelmed with gratitude as he squeezed Will to him, feeling that this was more than enough, that this was everything he wanted.

Will didn’t seem like he was done proving himself, though, and his eyes were shining when he pulled back to watch Hannibal again. “Will you mark me? I don’t want to pass the opportunity up, and I--...” His whispers were harsh with excitement, and he forced himself to lower his voice. “... I want to bite you. I want you to be my mate.”

Hannibal would have lifted Will off his feet if that didn’t run the risk of causing him to squeal and wake the baby. He settled for pulling at his hands instead, hurrying them out of the nursery and into their bedroom, where he was immediately all over Will, kissing and sucking his mouth, draped on top of him as their teeth clicked and they panted desperately.

“Bite me. Bite me, bite me.” Will begged, head thrown back against the pillows, baring his throat for his chosen mate. “Hannibal…” It was so strange to see Will submit to him in this way, and he ducked his head partially not to bear witness to it. He found the sweet spot, that perfect little scent gland just below Will’s ear where a traditional claiming mark would go. Hannibal imagined it, the healed scar which would let people know that he was bonded to a mate. It thrilled him to know they’d soon both be wearing them, and he licked the spot eagerly. Will came back to himself when Hannibal actually began nibbling, letting out a harsh growl.

“Bite me.” He commanded, and Hannibal was so relieved to hear the Will he knew under him-- the Will he’d met in the woods, fierce and unafraid of him. “Bite! Now!” Will goaded angrily, getting impatient with how Hannibal was coaxing the skin between his teeth and doing gradual bruising instead of just letting him have what he wanted.

“Bite me! Bi--” Will’s order was cut short by Hannibal tearing into him, severing the flesh of his throat and clamping down hard. A little bit of blood shot up from the wound, skittering against Will’s cheek. Will lay in shock, teeth still bared, lip twitching as his throat became painfully hot. Hannibal shook his jaw to paralyze his prey, causing more wet blood to freckle the both of them. It was only when he slowly released him that he heard Will inhale, deep and sudden.

Hannibal had no time to to lick the wound. As soon as he sat up, Will reared back simultaneously, then flew at him with gnashing teeth. He chomped down on Hannibal’s throat, and it was so immediately agonizing that Hannibal yelped. Will snapped at him with such ferocity that Hannibal wondered if his throat would be totally lacerated; if his windpipe would be pulverized, if he’d move only to find his head disconnected. He imagined Will’s horrified screams at having torn his mate’s head clean off. Or, perhaps, his profound pleasure. He’d hold the dripping thing aloft, proud, having killed Hannibal in righteous fury for not knowing his place.

Hannibal’s heart swelled at that; at what manner of monster he found himself in bed with, and he felt the beating of his heart in his bitten throat as Will licked at the damage.

“We have to sew these up.” He heard Will mutter. “I’ve done a number on you.”

It was an hour later, in the bathroom, that they found themselves unable to stop laughing. Hannibal had cleaned the both of them up, and stitched their throats for more aesthetically suitable scarring, and they’d collected the bedsheets. They found themselves back in the master bathroom to re-assess the damage, unable to resist the urge to pull back their bandages and stare, when the both of them had started giggling. It just hadn’t stopped. Will sat on the countertop, and Hannibal on the lip of the bathtub, and they cracked each other up for what felt like forever, gripping each other’s knees and shivering.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading thus far! I hope you enjoy the conclusion to my ABO fic. This is the chapter that warrants the explicit rating.

Four months passed. Hannibal watched the carnage just under Will’s ear slowly heal into a beautiful mark in the shape of his teeth, and the two of them watched as Abigail got bigger and bigger every day. She was intelligent; prone to mimicking Will’s expressions or developing a natural symmetry with him, amusing Hannibal endlessly when they’d both look up at him with the same face. Will had taken to the project of the nursery with unforeseen enthusiasm, surprising Hannibal one day-- after being strangely insistent about not purchasing a rocking horse, saying Abigail was too little for it-- with a horse of his own crafting. A sturdy addition to the room, made of shiny dark wood with painted flowers. Abigail’s hair came in black as a raven, and Hannibal brushed it even when there wasn’t much to brush, just because she fancied spending time with dad. She had her first taste of meat at six-and-a-half months old, taking well to a little turkey mixed in with her pureed vegetables.

Will was daydreaming about Hannibal teaching her how to cook, wrapped up in musings about his own domestic bliss as he brushed his teeth before bed, when a creeping sensation between his thighs snapped his attention to the present. He clenched his ass, holding his breath as it dawned on him. He put a hand down the back his pants, touching, then bringing his trembling fingers out to stare at the shining slick. When he caught a glance of Hannibal in the bathroom mirror, in his silk pajamas, he was already on the phone.

Will’s belly was doing the worst sort of flip-flopping, and the sweating started right away. It was always like this; the first signs of the heat were the worst, and lasted an hour or two at the longest. Temporary pains of transformation before his blood started thrumming hot and he started hungering. Hannibal stood behind him, rubbing soothing circles into his back and locking eyes through the mirror. They’d never done this before.

“Hello, Alana. Yes, very well. In fact, how would you feel about seeing her soon? Tonight. Yes, I know it’s last-minute. No. No, everything’s alright.” Will needed to shut his eyes, knocking his forehead against the cool glass of the bathroom mirror as another wave of slick production made his insides twist. Hannibal was charming as ever, speaking easily while he pet his mate’s dampening sleep shirt. “About a week, at the very most. Yes. Would you?”

Will cracked an eye open to catch Hannibal giving him the _this is going well_ smirk. “Excellent. Oh, that soon? The dogs, too? Thank you, Alana. We’re both so very grateful.” He pressed a kiss to Will’s shoulder, and Will huffed. “Yes. We’ll see you both soon. Goodbye, Alana.”

Hannibal hung up, and Will peeled himself from the mirror, holding onto Hannibal’s forearms for support as he shivered.

They’d spoken about this, soon after their bonding bites. The possibility of Will going into heat was on the horizon, and a conversation had to happen. They mutually agreed to forgo contraception; they wanted another baby, should the opportunity arise. That had been a practical matter-- a serious decision, made easily by two people deeply in love and secure enough to grow their family. The rest of the details were more nebulous. Will had never shared a heat with anyone. Abigail was conceived in the weeks following a heat spent alone, when fertility was increased but the wave had passed. All of Hannibal’s partnerships with omegas had been too brief for the possibility to present itself. He’d only seen alpha lovers through mutual ruts, and hoped that experience might prove helpful.

Will had a rough idea of the timeframe for when it would kick off, but it was coming now weeks off-schedule. He’d thought it might just not happen-- that they’d wait another six months. Luckily, Hannibal had been very friendly with Doctor Bloom in anticipation of needing assistance.

More than never having shared a heat, Will and Hannibal had never fucked. Never sucked at one another anywhere but at the mouth, even as Hannibal offered many times to be of service. They were intimate; more intimate than either of them had ever been with anyone, and affectionate touch was common between them. They’d seen each other nude, and taken time to appreciate one another’s forms, but after acknowledging a morning erection Will would roll over. At some point he stopped rationalizing why he denied Hannibal, and just said no because he wasn’t ready for it. Hannibal respected the refusal. He didn’t pester him, just occasionally gave word to the option, so Will would know he wasn’t resentful.

They were both men who’d given their bodies easily in the past, but somehow found themselves in an unusual predicament when it came to each other. Hannibal was under no illusions that Will was sacred, but understood the weight of what such a crossing of the threshold would do to them. Where he was eager, though, Will was patient. It seemed to be Hannibal’s role to beckon his lover into that world, persist in his availability, and Will would join him when he damn well pleased.

“How long would we have waited, if biology weren’t so perfectly convenient?” Will grinned up at Hannibal in that dry way he loved to, gritting out his words like they might not come out at all without force.

“Only you know. You always intended to wait for a heat, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Will ground out, breathing labored. He twitched as his spine gave the impression of coming to life on its own, worming up his back and bubbling to the base of his skull. There was such a profound rush of pheremones sent directly to his brain that his vision momentarily clouded, and he grasped at Hannibal, shuddering and keening through that uneasy flood of feeling. “I want my baby.” He whined, unable to think of anything else.

Hannibal guided Will out of the master bathroom, through their bedroom, and out into the hallway. Will clung to his mate like he’d been shot, leaning heavily on him and murmuring complaints as he was forced to move. He stopped moaning when they arrived in Abigail’s nursery, and only grumbled when Hannibal helped him into the rocking chair. He welcomed her with open arms when the baby was given to him, and settled at the sight of her.

She was awake, and in a good mood while Will acted funny. She pawed at his sweaty face, and stared while Will spoke to her in hushed tones.

Hannibal began packing bags for their daughter, calmly collecting her things for the trip while Will muttered, “I love you, Abigail. I love you so much. You’re going to have a great time with auntie Alana and auntie…”

“Margot.” Hannibal supplied, folding a onesie.

“Auntie Margot. The doggies will be there, too.” Will held her close, soothed by the smell of her head. “We’ve never spent this long apart. It will be an adventure for both of us. You’ve got to be brave for me. Do you promise?”

Hannibal tucked a bottle into her diaper bag and watched fondly as Will held his baby’s little hands and regarded her with such seriousness. “Promise me, Abigail.” Will was saying, blue-green eyes darting back and forth to meet her’s. “Promise me you’ll be brave.” Abigail became excited by the whole thing, matching Will’s intensity by shrieking. “That’s right.” Will agreed. “That’s right.”

It was an hour later that Alana Bloom rang the doorbell. The dogs barked and howled, just in case no one heard it ring. Hannibal went to the door to greet her and her lovely mate, opening up to allow them inside. Will had changed into a dry set of pajamas, and snuggled into the downstairs couch to wait with Abigail.

Alana and Hannibal were close. Will had been oblivious to how close, when he’d sent his photo to Alana the night they met. Once every month or two, Hannibal would come home to Will and the baby to regale him with news on how Alana was doing.

Doctor Bloom was a beta; the luckiest of the three biological possibilities, blessed without unwelcome heats or ruts, only presenting alpha or omega when bonded to a partner. She was courting an omega, and had initially presented alpha for her. Now they were trying to conceive, and Alana was in the process of shifting to omega. Her mate was infertile, and Hannibal said they’d found a donor for her to carry. He’d had a funny look on his face when he told Will. Smug. Surely he’d tell Will if _he_ were the donor, so there must be an entire story he was missing. Alana could fill him in, perhaps, when he was in a position to be sociable.

Adjusting from alpha presentation to omega was a complicated prospect. One that involved a great deal of ritual, and luck, and hope. Caring for Abigail for a short time would be good for her during this transition, encouraging a hormonal response to the baby. A mutually beneficial arrangement for the two families.

They spoke to Hannibal in the foyer, and Will could hear Alana’s familiar laughter. He felt good about this. Abigail would be in good hands.

A stranger came into the sitting room, a beautiful woman with dark hair in perfect curls. “You must be Margot.” Will croaked, unable to help the way his voice was straining. She sympathized, moving to sit near him in the adjacent chair and smiling knowingly. “I must be.” She agreed. “And you must be Will. And Abigail.” She tilted her head to address the baby, who was drowsy but refusing to pass out, should she miss any action. “Papa tells me you’re a handful.”

“He told you right.” Will sighed, moving his hand to allow Abigail’s heavy head to have somewhere to land when she lolled back.

“How are you keeping up?” Margot asked, referring to the plain signs of an uncomfortable pre-heat.

“Grateful to you and Doctor Bloom.” He answered, and she appeared on cue. Hannibal was nowhere in sight, but he could hear him shepherding the dogs outside. “Hello, Alana.”

“Hi, Will. Hi, Abigail.” Alana’s attitude was pleasant but unsmiling as she joined Will on the couch. He was between two well-dressed women, now, possibly the most handsome couple he’d ever seen. She put a hand to his shoulder, gaze demanding that he tell her the truth. “Are you alright?”

He’d lied to Alana before. Met the same serious look, laced with professional concern, and lied to her. There was no longer any point. He’d be as open with Alana as he could while keeping his safety-- and his family’s safety-- in tact. “I’m in pain.” Will admitted as he gave his baby to Doctor Bloom to hold. “But I’m in good hands.”

“Margot and I will take good care of her, and Hannibal will take good care of you.” Alana assured him, unable to help smiling when she got a look at the fat baby girl in her arms. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Abigail. Your dad’s told us so much about you.”

Hannibal arrived back inside in time to save Will from Alana asking him another question. She meant well. No amount of glowing affirmations from Hannibal could shake the image of Will she’d met the previous year, defiant to help even as his baby’s life depended on his healing. Maybe Hannibal had gotten through to him where she’d been unable to, but she couldn’t help that she was wary. Will still struck her as manipulative, baring vulnerabilities only where absolutely necessary for the compliance of those around him.

Alana trusted Hannibal, though. She also understood why he was so enamored. She only hoped for his safety, and for Abigail’s, and maybe if she kept giving Will chances he’d come around to her friendship. This was all a step in the right direction.

“The dogs are loaded in the truck. There was already one in there when I opened the divider-- a new playmate?” Hannibal looked amused, glad to see Alana already holding the baby. There had been a scenario playing at the back of his mind, one where Will refused to let her go.

“Applesauce.” Alana smiled at Hannibal. “She’s ours. Will’s pack will have no shortage of playmates this week. Sheep, and ducks, and horses, and so many piggies…” She listed off as she bounced Abigail on her knee, making her giggle even through a big yawn.

“This little piggy is sleepy, huh?” Margot chimed in, reaching over to squeeze one of Abigail’s tiny feet. “We should head out.”

Alana nodded and stood with Abigail held to her. Will wanted to stand with them, see them out, but he ached and burned. He reached out to pat his baby’s belly and say goodbye. Abigail gurgled. He watched Margot and Alana go, and Alana said something kind to him in the doorway, but it didn’t register in his pre-heat addled brain. Hannibal followed them out.

Will lay alone in the sitting room, sunk deeply into the couch cushions. Normally, they had a fire going in this room. Will was too hot for it. He heard the door shut, and Hannibal must’ve gone with them to their car. The whole place was silent, empty without the dogs or his babbling baby.

He ran his hands over his perspiring face, letting out a short groan just to fill the silence. He realized as he vocalized that he didn’t ache as badly as he had a moment ago; his skin still felt too-tight, and he was flushed all over, but the pain had subsided suddenly. With the click of the door, his body had stopped trembling. The nausea was gone. Will sat up, cradling himself loosely and staring around the room with heightened attention as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

He felt it in his chest first. His heartbeat had been faraway; clenching and unclenching weakly, as if from behind a wall of mucus. It crept into focus now, cobwebs dissolving into liquid and streaming like gold through his veins. Will’s heart pounded. He sucked a sharp inhale, blinking rapidly with the intensity of sensation. The slick that had made him sick to smell just moments ago suddenly prickled at his nose with irresistible sweetness. His hole clenched and unclenched, the urge coming over him to stick his fingers in and lick himself clean. He was ravenously hungry all at once, the shallow panting he’d been doing transforming into heaving.

It was as if Will’s ears could physically tilt to the door as his mate re-entered the house. He got himself off the couch, moving with ease and energy, the air so much lighter around him now. Hannibal went stock still in the doorway to the room, the both of them locked in a stare.

Hannibal watched with piqued interest as his mate stood resurrected; not the first beautiful bird, nor the ashes, but the flaming phoenix. He was breathing hard, eyes wild, an animal unlike any Hannibal had ever seen.

Will saw what he needed register in Hannibal eyes, and he bolted. Cleared the back of the couch in a spring and made a mad dash for the stairs. _Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump_ , his bare feet pounded against the hardwood right up until they hit nothing at all, suspended mid-air as his mate caught him. Grabbed him from behind and lifted him. Will hollered.

Hannibal put him right back down, panting too now, grin wide. His mate wanted him to give chase, and he’d pursue relentlessly if that was what Will wanted. It had been too easy, the first catch, so he let him go. Will ran, again, faster and smarter now, bobbing and weaving to avoid Hannibal’s grip a second time.

Hannibal chased Will into their bedroom, where Will scrambled up onto the bed and stood, king of the nest while Hannibal watched from the ground. He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it for Hannibal to catch, wearing a toothy smile, flushed chest rising and falling with his breathing.

“Alpha.” Will beckoned his mate, hastily untying his pajama bottoms and kicking himself out of them. He threw those, too, into Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal was drawn to the bed until his knees hit the edge, dropping Will’s clothes into a heap on the floor. Will walked to him, bed creaking under his bare feet. His hard cock aligned with Hannibal’s face, and all he had to do was open his mouth and take him in.

Will gasped at the wet warmth enveloping him, harsh fingers tugging through Hannibal’s sandy hair. Hannibal’s hands went to Will’s plush bottom and squeezed posessively, earning a soft growl. He kept a firm grip on him while he bobbed, and he flicked his gaze up to watch Will come apart, but a hand covered his eyes. Sight deprived, he mouthed at the tip and brought one hand around up to feel along the length of him. Will’s anatomy was a lovely thing. A cock the same approximate size as any beta, to Hannibal’s liking, with the distinctive difference of not evolving to feature testicles. Male omegas had swollen perineums, sensitive, but ultimately not aiding in the production of any fluid that could impregnate. He ran his fingers down the knit muscle and glands, making Will whine. Not allowed to look, Hannibal touched. He snuck a hand between the cheeks of Will’s ass, getting a feeling of the startling wetness there. Will was weeping slick, soaked all down the backs of his thighs, hot in Hannibal’s nostrils.

Will shoved past Hannibal’s roaming hand and started fingering himself, wincing as he attempted to maintain an air of control to talk to Hannibal. “I need to be bred.” He croaked.

“Ask for it.”

“Breed me.” Will demanded, voice stronger, shoving his fingers up into himself and finally lifting his other hand away from Hannibal’s eyes. He allowed himself to be looked at, in all his power. “Breed me.” He grit out, sinking to his knees and tearing Hannibal’s pajama shirt open, sending delicate buttons flying. He gripped at the hair on his chest and pulled while Hannibal dropped his pants to the floor, eagerly climbing on top of his mate now that they were both bare, settling between his open thighs and biting at his throat.

Will threw his head back, knees wide apart, kicking at Hannibal’s back to goad him into fucking him. “Show me what you’re good for, alpha. Show me. Fuck me.”

Hannibal bruised Will’s throat with his teeth, snarling through a smirk in response. He aligned himself with Will’s dripping entrance, sitting up with his fist around his fat cock as they locked eyes.

Will growled and pulled his fingers out of himself, gripping at the bed sheets instead, jaw dropping as Hannibal breached him. He realized through his haze of need that his mate was huge; alpha cocks were naturally equipped for endurance, but this one was nearly too much. Will felt himself licking his lips, salivating as Hannibal pushed in. “Hannibal.” He keened, hips lifted and knees curled to his chest, he watched it sink inside himself, swollen and stiff. It didn’t take much for him to be in, all the way in, pulled to the hilt by that hot channel of muscle, and then he was pulling back and fucking back in, blurring Will’s vision and _filling_ him. “Yes. God, yes, yes, yes--”

“Alpha. Alpha. Alpha.” Will gasped, hands coming up to claw at his mate’s back, feeling such tremendous relief now that he was being stuffed, no room left for worry or thought, profoundly full with that huge cock. “Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me--”

Hannibal slammed into Will over and over, pounding him until he was howling, bloodying Hannibal’s back with his blunt nails. “Is this why you’ve denied me so long?” Hannibal rasped. “Afraid I’d expend my use to you?”

“Alpha. Alpha.” Will babbled until Hannibal’s hand caught his throat. He forced Will to look at him, squeezing as his hips kept up their brutal pace.

“How’d you kill him, Will?” Hannibal asked, and released just enough with his fingers that Will could suck in a ragged inhale. “Abigail’s father.”

“Bit his throat out.” Will spit, eyes wild and dark, baring his teeth at the man fucking him.

“Was he still inside you?”

“Yes.”

“How would you kill me?”

“With my hands.” Will whispered forcefully. He released his bloody fingers from Hannibal’s back and wrapped them around his throat. His eyes were dark but his hands were gentle, only placing them there so the two of them matched, making no move to cut off Hannibal’s air.

“Do you want to?” Hannibal rapsed, hips stuttering as his knot began to swell, making the both of them cry out in a mix of immense pleasure and discomfort.

“No.” Will croaked, dropping his hands to cover Hannibal’s, encouraging him to let him go. He did, lacing their fingers together and pinning Will’s hands above his head as he squeezed his eyes shut through the last few ruts. He came inside him, unable to move any further, knot keeping them locked together. Hannibal groaned, mouth dropped open through his first orgasm, and saw Will smiling beneath him when he opened his bleary eyes.

The smell in the air was of their mating, and most distinctively of an omega that felt safe. He was sweating nesting pheremones like a cold drink perspiring in the sun, and grinning up at his alpha.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Will promised, leaning up slightly to give his mate a kiss on the mouth. “You’re meant to be free, Hannibal.”

“All the same, I feel tied to you.” Hannibal couldn’t help laughing a little, as they were physically tied together. A wave of aftershock hit him, and he spilled into Will again, wincing and biting his lip through the bliss. “It would only make sense.” He went on when he could, “to die by your hand.”

“That would be beautiful.” Will agreed, loosely crossing his ankles at Hannibal’s back as he settled and felt his first orgasm creep up on him. The size of the knot stretching him, combined with the gentlest nudge of Hannibal’s belly against his cock had him spurting and gasping. “Oh--”

Lost in Will’s face, Hannibal climaxed again, too. They moaned into each others mouths, coming down with kisses and licks.

Will’s breathing began to calm, and he relaxed into their position, shifting his hips as best he could under his mate’s weight. “I prefer the beauty of living with you.” He muttered, nudging his nose up to the shell of Hannibal’s ear. “Killing with you. Perhaps dying with you, but in no hurry.” He kissed his ear. “Better to dine with you, for now.”

Hannibal exhaled, shutting his eyes as he warmed with gratitude. “Yes.” He said softly, releasing Will’s hands so he could hold him at his waist and assist in turning the both of them over. It meant twisting the knot, moving it around, which was nearly impossible but doable with patience. Patience, and another orgasm for Will. He mewled against the pillow as Hannibal helped him onto his side and cozied up to him, spooning from behind, still stuck securely inside him. He kissed down the back of Will’s neck and sighed. He felt something bubbling in his chest, and when he opened his mouth he could hear himself rumbling. Purring. It was loud and startling to him, having never heard it before.

Will laughed, warm and fond and deep.

When Hannibal’s knot went down, they picked back up where they left off, making love again, this time with Hannibal draped over Will’s back and moving slow and deep while Will keened. Next was sitting in Hannibal’s lap, facing him as he bounced, doing all the work while his alpha built his stamina back up. Tied together in that position, letting climax after climax wash over them, they kissed with open mouths, clicking teeth and eager tongues. They oscillated together between gentle and cruel, sometimes peppering each other with kisses while they wept, sometimes gnashing and biting and throwing each other around. It went on like that for the duration of the first night, only dropping off into naps while they were knotted.

Will awoke from one such nap to the distinct sense that it was morning. His mate’s knot was deflated, so he wriggled out from under him and stretched. Slick and semen began creeping down his thigh once he was standing, and he groaned, finding a plug on the bedside table to stop the flow. It held everything inside him, and he curiously pressed his fingers against his protruding belly, finding himself looking properly pregnant with all that Hannibal had given him these last long hours. Will remembered when all he had to see himself through his heat was a plug. He remembered wrenching it in and out of himself, desperate to be filled, and now here he was; stuffed to the brim by his alpha, rounded out and taut with him. He heard Hannibal stir, and smirked at him, showing off the size of his belly.

“Look what you did.”

Hannibal sniffed and sat up on his elbow, reaching out to touch his distended middle. “I can only reap what I sow.” He got himself off the bed to stand with his omega and kiss his head. “Do you reckon I’ve sewn enough seed?”

“Hardly.” Will found his hands in Hannibal’s chest hair, his new favorite spot to grip. He could imagine himself carding through it in the coming weeks, cozy with their baby back home, laying an idle hand against his mate’s soft chest.

They were far from done, but Will’s heat had temporarily broken long enough for the two of them to make it into the kitchen. Will wrapped himself in a robe, savoring the comfort of the fabric before he became too warm to wear it. Hannibal wore nothing, apparently done with modesty altogether now that the threshold had been crossed. Will appreciated the view greatly, sitting himself on the kitchen counter and tilting his head at his mate’s muscular back, drinking in the sight of his ass and thighs as he roamed about his favorite room to make them something to eat.

He kept it simple, not taking longer than fifteen minutes to whip up two steaming bowls of mushroom risotto. Dinner for breakfast. Time ceased to matter during heats. Carbohydrates in the rice, and protein in the thick cheese to sate them and build their energy back up. Will opened his mouth to request a bite of his mate’s food, no different from the full bowl in his lap, and happily received a spoonful.

“How long did you watch me, before you made a decision? The evening we met.” Hannibal asked, leaning against the counter, brushing elbows with Will.

“I followed your footprints and made the decision immediately. It was instinctual. As instinctual as, I assume, your offering to cook for me.”

Hannibal smiled at that. “I feel an irresistible pull to provide for you, yes.”

Will was at a loss for how to thank him, setting his spoon down a moment to pet through Hannibal’s bangs with his fingers. Hannibal put his bowl down so he could settle his hands around Will’s middle, feeling at his rounded belly again, soft through the fabric of his robe.

“You looked just like this, that night.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. Radiant.” Hannibal dropped to his knees on the kitchen tile, ducking his head beneath Will’s robe and taking him into his mouth like he had at the start of the night, hands creeping up underneath to massage his stomach while he pleasured him.

Will gasped, one hand squeezing the edge of the kitchen counter he sat on, the other gripping his mate’s hair.

“Hannibal. Hannibal. Oh. Oh, oh, _oh--_ ”

Will’s robe felt altogether too hot. His pupils were blown into saucers, and he was trembling all over again. “Alpha. _Alpha--_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue for the holidays!

Will nuzzled his cheek up against his pillow, sighing contentedly as his partner did wonders with his tongue. His back was arched, on his elbows and knees, trembling and gasping for Hannibal as he lapped at him, his mate getting slick all over his lips and chin as he eagerly ate Will out. Will couldn’t regret the waiting; he was happy to have successfully suspended the inevitable for as long as he did, but now that they were here…

The last three months had been bliss. The heat itself was a blur of immense feeling, punctuated by vivid moments of presence. They’d lock eyes and touch and fall in love all over again. It ended, technically, a full day before they relieved Alana of babysitting duty. They’d spent that day putting things back together, scrubbing, doing laundry, becoming re-accustomed to the reality of wearing clothes. Will thought before it started that the heat might just rid their systems of all their stored energy for sex, but that last day with the house to themselves had them falling into bed at easy intervals, thrilled and curious about each other without the pounding pressure of pheromones.

There was no interruption of the family rhythm which Will was accustomed to. They were still parents first and foremost, and partners in a practical sense, but with the profound enrichment of sex. Hannibal became more sensually inclined in general, lingering touches longer, his comments about the way Will smelled or felt coming with more frequency. He’d murmur something sweet into his ear and make him flush over dinner, then come to him at night and fulfill those promises.

Abigail came back from the Verger estate exhausted. It aided in the transition that Margot and Alana had lavished their daughter with affection in superabundance, returning their baby dazed and dressed in a brand new onesie. Abigail slept for nearly three days straight, perhaps dreaming of horses and piggies and all the exciting things she saw during the week she was away. If Will and Hannibal got a little extra alone time in those days, well, that was a blessing.

It was as if Will hadn’t felt properly domestic until the heat passed. He noticed himself behaving differently; eating more, laughing more, even growing in a little facial hair. Just some scruff he insisted he’d shave off soon when Hannibal kissed and complimented it.

Abigail was very vocal now, and mobile, talking nonsense while crawling around excitedly. The tiny screamer Will had brought home from the hospital felt like a distant memory as she cruised around the nursery. She wept and whined sometimes, but always recovered with some patience. Abigail was always highly in-tune with Will and his moods, and as Will found deeper relaxation, baby was feeling content too.

It became standard practice for Hannibal to pleasure Will when he awoke. He’d initiate by kissing Will’s throat and jaw, and Will would start out groggy but warm up to it, eventually rolling onto his hands and knees to let Hannibal properly wake him up. He’d kiss down his bare back, then tuck his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama bottoms and leave them around his knees. Hannibal would kiss him apart, gently encouraging Will to present himself, then lick into him slow and deep. Will would begin with little huffs of appreciation, muttering and mumbling, then gradually become a little louder, moaning and whimpering as his thighs quivered. Hannibal could tend to him for ages, persistent and doting as he indulged his lover, milking the sweetest noises out of him in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes Will would request a reach-around; a handjob to push him off the edge into orgasm, and sometimes he’d touch himself while Hannibal licked him. Today, he squeezed his pillow and looked over his shoulder as best he could, whispering, “Hannibal.”

“Mmm?” The vibrations were felt deeply, and Will grunted in gratitude.

“I want you inside me.”

Hannibal dropped his mouth away, then cozied up beside his partner on his back, letting Will make the easy adjustment of throwing his leg over his hips to ride him. Hannibal shimmied out of his briefs as Will settled into the straddle, big hands under his thighs to help guide him down onto his waiting cock. Will sank down effortlessly, tilting his head back and gasping. “Ah.” His fists clenched and unclenched in Hannibal’s chest hair, lashes fluttering. “Ah.”

Will moved himself steadily, coming up and back down again, angling himself so that Hannibal’s cock brushed the deepest part of him, making him shudder and pant. Hannibal met him with smooth thrusts, naturally finding their rhythm and breathing with him. One hand snaked up to rest at Will’s belly, where a gentle swell was forming. Three months along and beginning to pronounce itself in the curve of Will’s stomach, with the addition of a few pounds of eating well. Hannibal groaned as his hips rocked up into his lover, eyes fixed on that gorgeous little bump. “Will. Will.”

“Hannibal-- hah, _oh--_ ” One of Hannibal’s hands found its way to Will’s cock, stroking him off in tandem with his bounces. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes…”

Hannibal’s eyes flickered up to meet Will’s, the both of them wanton and slack-jawed. “I love you. I love you, Will.”

“I love y-- _ohhhh, oh, oh, oh--_ Hannibal. _Hannibal!_ ” Will cried out through orgasm, spurting, flecking fluid against Hannibal’s chest and sticking to the hair there. He panted, smiling deliriously as he curled over his mate and continued to roll his hips to get him off inside of him. “I love you,” he returned, very awake now. “I love you.”

Hannibal winced as he came, baring his teeth and struggling to keep his eyes open. Will petted his hair through it, whispering to him.

“I love you.” Will cooed like a mantra. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

They showered together, which was a special thing for both of them. Will usually stayed behind in bed when Hannibal left to clean up, waiting for Abby’s morning babble on the monitor to stir him again. That morning, they stood under the water in each other’s arms and kissed endlessly.

It was a Saturday, which meant Hannibal got to spend the day at home, starting early on meat which required slow-cooking. He busied himself in the kitchen while snow began to fall outside. The whole kitchen smelled like heaven by the time the afternoon rolled around, and Will brought Abigail in to be near to it. He watched the snow through the glass for a moment, then began to smile. “She’s never seen snow.” He grinned from his partner to the baby on his hip. “You wanna go see the snow, Abigail? Come on.” He moved into the dining room, where he opened the sliding glass door and stepped into the yard in his slippers. There were a few inches of concrete where he could stand without dampening his shoes, and he watched the sky as his breath misted in front of him.

He took a small step at first, then tracked a few paces into the yard so they were properly under the gentle snowfall, wet feet be damned. Will tilted his head back and let the snowflakes drift down onto his face, holding Abigail safely to his flank. He glanced down to see her lashes covered in flakes, ruddy-cheeked and baffled by the whole phenomenon. “Ba-ba-dada-da.” Abigail told him and flapped, once, like she’d seen enough. She stared at the snow covering the ground and wriggled.

“Okay.” Will conceded, padding back inside and toeing his slippers off. He left them by the door, sliding the glass pane shut. He shivered once they were back inside, only noticing then how chilly it was. He drifted back into the kitchen, content to smell Hannibal’s cooking again.

“Were you watching us?” Will asked, sitting counterside and holding Abigail in his lap.

“Yes. I was thinking we could take her to the woods one day. Show her where we met.” Hannibal was assembling lunch, wearing a plain apron.

“She’s not big enough for ice-fishing.” Will tilted his head to look at the baby, warming her little hands with his own. “Soon, though. Maybe we’ll take a family trip to Virginia next year.”

All of the dogs were in the kitchen, laying very still and patient for Hannibal to drop a scrap of food. Even the sound of the screen door hadn’t stirred them, on their best behavior while the cook was present.

“We’ll have another little one then.” Hannibal observed, firing up the stovetop to melt butter in a pan. He smiled over his shoulder at his mate.

“Three sets of footprints and one in arms.” Will kissed Abigail’s soft head, realizing she would be taking her first steps soon. “I love you.” He muttered against her fluffy hair. “I love you.”

He loved her. He loved Hannibal, and he loved the baby he hadn’t met yet. Chalk it up to early pregnancy mood swings, but Will felt himself crying in the kitchen in the middle of the day, blubbering against his daughter’s head as he thought of how excited he was to meet their baby, how excited he was for Hannibal to hold his child for the first time.

He felt a kiss pressed to his forehead, and frowned at the perpetrator. “Don’t burn our lunch, Hannibal,” Will warned, wiping tears, “I’m starving.”


End file.
